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Saturday, 19 October 2013

Part 5

The Present: 1867

When the Aether storms
miraculously calmed, both Prussia
and Great Britain dispatched
science expeditions to assess the safety of France. They found that, as long as
precautions were taken against noxious fumes and strange atmospheres, it would
be possible to explore the desolate country. Early indications were that many
of the ruins of the French towns, not to mention the great industrial
complexes, were ripe for exploration, and would certainly yield a great bounty
in unique artefacts and
advanced technology.

Former cities house untold
technology, much of which was never released to the outside world. The vast
industrial plazas that once covered endless acres of land lie abandoned, ruined
factories brim with wares, engines of manufacture lie unguarded, and secret
caches of Aetheric materials surely wait to be discovered. Even
Louis-Napoleon’s super-weapons now sit dormant along France’s borders, standing silent
sentry against innumerable plunderers. Perhaps, it was argued, the source of
the Terrestrial Aether discovered by the French all those years ago still
existed. If it did, then perhaps it could be made safe, and the scientists of
the age could carve success from the failure of the Consulate. Whoever achieved
such a feat would be wealthy beyond measure and, if the rumours of
Terrestrial Aether’s other properties were to be believed, practically
immortal.

And yet the dangers of exploring the mist-shrouded ruins
of France
were immeasurable. Dangerous storms are like to flare up without warning, with
winds that can strip flesh from bones and lightning bolts capable of cutting
through entire companies of men. Some regions of France remain entirely inaccessible
by land, sea or air, as they seem engulfed permanently by conflagrations of
multi-coloured
fire. Sometimes, towns and landmarks that had been wiped from the map flicker
into existence, offering up their secrets for a tantalisingly short space of time
before blinking out of reality once more, taking with it anyone unfortunate
enough to be nearby. What befalls such unlucky individuals is unknown, but none
have ever been seen again. Worse still, rumours persist of strange beings,
terrifying to behold, appearing as if from nowhere, sometimes with messages for travellers, and
sometimes with murderous intent. There are places where time and space are
damaged beyond repair—places where time runs backwards, or more slowly, or even
stands still; where a
traveller might find himself aged twenty years in the blink
of an eye, or else find himself at his destination in moments, whilst his
companions have all aged several years, or are long dead.

Drawn together by the dimensional flux, even more strange
elements have coalesced from the realms beyond, and melded with Terrestrial Aether
into myriad strange and exotic materials. Boulders and sometimes whole villages
are left lighter than air, gently drifting dozens of feet from the ground;
forests of bizarre, glowing crystalline trees have sprung up across the
wasteland, and rich seams of extraterrestrial minerals run through the rocky
mountain ranges.

Some ‘survivors’ of the Aether catastrophe have become
something less than human—hideous, walking corpses, shambling revenants of
humanity whose grotesque forms have become hosts to inter-dimensional
parasites. Dead bodies have been found with crudely-written decrees pinned to
them, decrees apparently written by King Charles X. Could it be that something
still stirs in the ruins of Paris, the city worst affected by the catastrophe?
Could it be that Paris
is ruled over still, by the king of the revenants?

Other
beings, strange and ravening, also wander the land. From which hellish dimension
they came, no one can be sure, but their nightmarish forms are myriad. Whilst
some keep to specific regions, perhaps bound by particular conditions or drawn
to exotic alien minerals, others drift across the wasteland, searching for
living things on which to feed.

But not everyone in France is dead or cursed. Some
natives live still, in the few remaining rural settlements, or makeshift
communes in the hill country. From all walks of life, these dispossessed people
have banded together, fearful of strangers and rightly so. What remains of the
French militia does its best to look after these pockets of civilisation,
but it has its work cut out. Some groups of soldiers have long since forsaken hope, and operate as
pirates and rogues, their knowledge of the harsh wasteland unsurpassed. Legends
are whispered by the ragged denizens of the communes that Napoleon III still
lives, and fights against revenants, murderous rebels and invading foreigners
alike. They whisper that he has somehow remained untouched by the catastrophe;
the only man in France
to remain pure when all around him has been corrupted. Whatever the truth of
the matter, Louis-Napoleon has become a folk hero, his stories told around
campfires at night to ward off evil.

The Race for Supremacy

With so many horrors, and with France still very much in a state
of Aetheric flux, it seems foolhardy for any nation to contemplate expeditions
into the wasteland. And yet the Prussian central ministry and the Royal
Geographical Society of Britain have put together several expeditionary forces
to foray ever deeper into old French territory. And they are not alone—several
of Britain’s more partisan
regiments have disobeyed orders and entered France in search of riches.
Mercenary warbands from rival nations delve into the wasteland unaided. And all
this, for the merest opportunity of fame, fortune and the advancement of
science beyond measure.

These
expeditionary forces must face all the dangers of the wasteland, and doubtless
other, as-yet-undiscovered terrors from alien dimensions. Until more of France
has been explored, neither side dares launch a full-scale military invasion,
and so instead smaller forces push ever deeper into the chaotic realm in search
of untold treasure.

Britain’s
forces are primarily well-organised expeditions, led by the greatest explorers
of the age and supported by well-drilled elite Yeomanry. Regimental
expeditions, however, tend to be less well prepared, and are usually dispatched
at the whim of a mercurial regimental commander whose only interest is
garnering more glory for his regiment. These missions are likely to change at
the drop of a hat, as officers in the field become greedy for more personal
wealth, filled with battle lust, or lose their nerve entirely in the face of
extraterrestrial horrors. Some British regiments are even said to be in the pay
of the exiled French Duke, Louis Antoine, who pledges his assistance to any
force that promises to preserve French wealth and national treasures, so that
one day he may restore his kingdom and sit the throne that is rightfully his.

The
Prussian states send out legions of border forces into its ravaged western
territories daily, primarily in the hope that, once secure, it can be restored
to its former glory. Their troops are patriotic and well-drilled, after two
decades of border patrols, but they are also weary of the bureaucracy from the
capital, and the endless politicking of their leaders. Those that press on into
France do so under orders
from their regional controllers, and often find themselves competing with
regiments from other regions of Prussia.
They are almost always burdened by over-complicated chains of command, manifold
objectives, and secondary targets which much be achieved meticulously, all the
while recording their every manoeuvre for the central ministry.

Added
to this, private companies from both sides often set out to stake their own
share of the wealth. From Britain,
individual explorers, scientists and trading companies often venture into the
wasteland, backed by foreign mercenaries, hired muscle or bribed soldiery. Only
the most determined and well-prepared get past the first few days of perilous
exploring, but those who do return so laden down with riches that they always
inspire another group to have a go. Likewise, the civil institutions of Prussia
form coalitions of brave, foolhardy and disenfranchised militia to delve into
the wastes and bring back what treasure they can find. Many towns put together
their own private expeditions, waving official papers signed by backwater local
politicians as a passport to adventure. Scientific institutes pool their
resources to pay off the Prussian border guards, sending in small teams to
study the French ruins, determined not to let the Royal Society of Britain beat
them in the race to scientific discovery.

Even
less prominent nations have found their way into France—small forces of Spanish
guerrillas seeking wealth to rebuild their country; Nordic and Mediterranean
nations risking their tiny fleets over the still-treacherous seas; and even Russian
and American mercenaries have been found in the wastes, usually at death’s door
due to their distinct lack of Aether technology.

Only
the bravest of the explorers ever survives long enough to reach the interior of
the nation. Those that meet inevitably come into conflict. The stakes are too
high for either Prussia or Britain to contemplate sharing the spoils and
so, in the no-man’s land that is France, all treaties are set aside
and hostilities are commonplace. Of course, it is no place for the unwary
commander. Entire regiments can appear as if from nowhere, falling upon their
enemies out of thin air; hordes of shambling revenants can suddenly stumble
from the buildings of a seemingly deserted settlement; and armed exploratory
forces will stop at nothing to stalk a rival who has the relics that they seek.
Whatever the dangers, everything is at stake for the side willing to gamble; a
whole nation lies under a pall of chaos, its secrets waiting to be revealed.

2 comments:

That storyline has created a lot of future work for you. Your troops at the moment all seem to be in well kept uniform. Your French militia, Russians Americans etc are all going to need a more ragged appearance, with some using traditional firearms. You have hordes of Zombie like French men, mutants and figures from a different dimension to create. Hope you haven't got any holidays planned for the next decade.